In Which Mr Bucket Experiences An Epiphany
by Mrs.GingerHinkley
Summary: The strain of losing his job finally pushes Mr. Bucket over the edge. Mrs. Bucket looks on in bewilderment as her husband expresses his anger through song in the style of Sweeney Todd. Inspired by the Tim Burton films.


Disclaimer: I do not own any part of _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ (specifically, in this case, the beginning dialogue taken from the 2005 film) nor _Sweeney Todd_.

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**In Which Mr. Bucket Experiences An Epiphany **

Mr. Bucket did not believe in complaining. But there was only so much unfairness the world could throw upon one man. Seeing his wife hanging tattered old clothes outside in the middle of winter did not alleviate his growing feelings of poverty.

"We were barely making ends meet as it was," Mr. Bucket grumbled.

"Oh," Mrs. Bucket replied with the sort of optimism that could usually console her husband, "You'll find another job. Until then I'll just… um, well I'll just thin down the soup a little more. Don't worry, Mr. Bucket. Our luck will change; I know it."

But even as Mrs. Bucket embraced him, one hand rubbing his chest comfortingly, Mr. Bucket was filled with a bizarre rage. He thought of the sickly grandparents, he thought of poor skinny Charlie, he thought of his wife's horrid cabbage soup, he thought of the illusive Golden Tickets, he thought of his toothpaste factory. He stood still, glaring into nothing until finally he gave a savage yell.

"What's all this screaming about? What's happened" Mrs. Bucket asked, looking at her husband with concern.

"I had a job," Mr. Bucket spat.

"Then that machine took over, I know and they sent you running home."

"I had a job! The tube was there, between my hands," Mr. Bucket cried, thinking of his traitorous toothpaste factory as he stared at his frozen hands.

"There, there, dear… calm down," Mrs. Bucket cooed.

Mr. Bucket swatted her hand away from his chest, breaking free of her soothing embrace. "No! I had it. The job was _there_, now we'll never spend again!"

Mrs. Bucket shook her head, bright eyed as she assured him, "Easy now, hush love, hush. I keep telling you: People like to brush-"

"When? What is the date? You tell me the date when we'll ever spend again!"

Mr. Bucket began pacing furiously the length of their dilapidated clothes line next to their even patchier house.

Finally, his eyes gleamed with a strangely dark giddiness. Muttering under his breath, Mr. Bucket growled, "There's a hole in the roof and I'm fixing it, under which four people are dying and sick and poor Charlie can buy only one chocolate. And that is wrong."

Mrs. Bucket could do nothing but nod slowly at her uncharacteristically deranged husband.

Pointing a finger at his house, Mr. Bucket continued, "They all deserve to buy. Tell you why, Mrs. Bucket, tell you why. Because in all of the whole human race, Mrs. Bucket, there is one ticket left and only one! If we're content to stay in our normal place we'll be cold and poor with nothing to feed our face. Look at me, Mrs. Bucket, look at you!" he spat, spinning around to face her. Truth be told, they were getting close to resembling toothpicks.

More than a little worried, Mrs. Bucket took a step back as he advanced towards her. "No, we all deserve to buy," he roared, backing her into the clothesline. "Even you, Mrs. Bucket, even I!"

He grabbed her arm, yanking her closer to stare with glee at her terrified face. She needed to stop being so darn optimistic.

Looking into her wide brown eyes, _the color of chocolate_, Mr. Bucket continued, "Because, the lives of the wealthy should be made brief, for the rest of us cabbage is little relief. We all deserve to buy!" he shouted, before collapsing to his knees, clutching tufts of his hair. Practically weeping, Mr. Bucket lamented Charlie's unfortunate childhood as affected by lack of money, "Or he'll never see the fact'ry, no he'll never get a Wonka bar…"

Mrs. Bucket was about to kneel next to her husband, to render assistance and perhaps tell him to lie down for a spell. But like a rocket, Mr. Bucket shot up, storming to the door, kicking it open with a bang.

In the threshold of his pathetic excuse for a house, a strange sense of security wrapped around him like madness.

"Buckets!" he shouted.

The grandparents awoke with a start, except for Grandma Georgina who continued to sleep.

"Alright!" Mr. Bucket announced, hurrying towards Charlie with Mrs. Bucket following close behind. "You son, how about you lave? Go and visit your good friend Willy. You Pops, too Pops. No need to behave!"

Mr. Bucket threw his hands up in the air as he pranced around the room. Mrs. Bucket and Charlie exchanged worried glances. The grandparents were reminded of past nightmares.

"We will have chocolate! We'll soon have vacation!" Mr. Bucket sang, grinning at his wife eagerly. Mrs. Bucket tried to give a convincing smile in return. A husband maddened with thoughts of revenge wasn't exactly part of her ideal daydream.

Mr. Bucket took no notice. He approached the ever reproachable Grandpa George. "Who sir, you sir? No one's leaving there, come on, come on! Willy's waiting: he wants you eaters!" he growled.

He addressed the sleeping Grandma Georgina with a laugh, "You sir! Everybody; Grandparents, now let's go buy!"

But once again, his temporary insanity gave way to despair and he fell to his knees. "Not one bar, no, nor ten bars, nor a hundred can assuage me. I will have them!"

Once more he was on his feet again, muttering under his breath as he headed out the door. "And I will get a job, even as he gloats. In the mean time thin soup goes down everyone's throats."

Mrs. Bucket tried not to take the jibe to her cooking personally. She gazed at her husband with a small frown, looking at a man with a heart about to break, "And my Charlie wants a ticket and I'll never have a job again. But the work waits! I'm alive at least. And I'll save my boy!"

Mrs. Bucket stared at her husband, confusion furrowing her brow. When at last it seemed he had finished his ridiculous routine she spoke. "That's all very well, but what are we going to do about the cabbage?"

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**Author's Note:** So I was watching _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ one day for the umpteenth time (because Tim Burton is a genius and thus the movie is awesome) when I giggled, realizing how similar "Mrs. Bucket" sounded to "Mrs. Lovett". Somehow, this resulted. I really appreciate your reviews!


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